Staring At The Sun
by DethhKat
Summary: Charles continues to learn to live in a world of darkness, while starting a new relationship and finding himself thrust into new adventure...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha are gods. (And apologies for not including Tommy Blacha in my previous story disclaimers! I'm trying to fix this but can't quite figure out the edit thing yet...)

**Gratitude:** Starting this story I really got off on the wrong track! Thanks to Beta Reader (and sis) YvetteDel for giving me a swift kick in the a$$ and steering me back in the right direction ;) I could not do this without you! And huge thanks to everyone who has commented on the previous story (esp Vixie!) - it keeps me going, it really does! :D

**Notes:** This story is a direct continuation of another story called "**Out of Darkness**", and part of what hopefully will end up being a trilogy. "**Out of Darkness**" explains a few things such as how Charles went blind and subsequently found himself in a relationship with Nathan.

**Warnings:** Some strong language… but seriously, it's Metalocalypse, what did you expect? ;)  
This story contains a slash pairing (Charles/Nathan) which had just been established at the end of the previous story.

Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! Feedback = Love :)

* * *

**Staring At The Sun**

_Charles Ofdensen gazed at the sky. It was one of those days where all the clouds were full and perfectly formed. He was standing in a field, the tall grass rising almost to his waist, and just above the knees of the man who stood next to him. The stood close, but there was an unspoken distance between them- a distance that seemed unnatural for father and son. Young Charles focused hard on the clouds, which were slowly drifting, and shifting into new, yet still perfect, forms. Gradually a brilliant light was being revealed from behind the shapes and as it came further into view the child found himself drawn to it. His eyes widened even as he half-heard his father's stern voice, "Charlie, don't stare at the sun or you'll go blind!" But the warning couldn't make him tear his eyes away from the brilliant glow- the brightest thing he had ever seen. He stood, transfixed, as the light entered his eyes, filling his sockets, and penetrating his brain. He saw like he had never seen before- an impossibly bright white, containing faint traces of every color imaginable. The light grew brighter and brighter until it was more than a vision, it was a hot knife, slicing painfully through his head. But the pain lessened as the sea of light enveloped him, growing brighter, and impossibly, brighter still, until…. _

His eyes shot open, as he gasped for air. He lay there catching his breath and feeling oddly comforted by the darkness he knew would not leave him. As his mind recovered from the strange dream, he registered the heavily breathing body next to him, and snuggled in closer to Nathan Explosion. He inhaled deeply and exalted in his companion's musky scent. Staring at the ceiling of his room and seeing nothing but memories playing in his mind, Charles smiled broadly.

...

After encouragement from both Abigail and Pickles, Charles was confident that any advances he made towards Nathan would be well-received. But finding out that Dethklok was now unable to perform their scheduled press-concert had taken a big toll on his confidence, as well as his mood. When Nathan lingered after the rest of the band has left the conference room, Charles had been ready to send him away, telling himself that he just wanted to be alone. And why shouldn't he? He was used to being alone. Even in the few months since he had lost his sight, he was making strides regaining his independence and relying less on help from others. And now, after finding out that the boys' fooling around had lead to Pickles being stabbed in the hand, he was feeling like he couldn't rely on anyone anymore.

"Look," Nathan said from his place at the table, intruding on Charles's self-pity. "I know what this concert was for you, okay. I'm gonna make this right."

"Really," Charles replied skeptically. _What are you going to do, Nathan? _Charles thought bitterly, as he stood up and turned away from the singer. _Good luck convincing the Associated Press that everything's fine while your drummer can't hold a drumstick. _

Charles was aware that Nathan had gotten up and was approaching him. Soon he felt a hand on his shoulder steer him back around until he was facing Nathan. Charles tensed up to shrug the singer away but Nathan kept a firm hold and quietly spoke.

"We can't do the concert, but we can do something even better. I was talking to everyone before you came in about this and we decided… we're gonna make a new album. We'll announce it at what would have been the concert. Everyone will know that Dethklok, _all _of Dethklok, is back!" To emphasize what he meant by "all" he gently squeezed Charles's shoulder, but the manager was not yet impressed.

"And what did the others have to say about this?" Charles asked skeptically. He knew what it was like to try and get the band to work on an album when one was actually due. A spontaneous album was somewhat of a miracle, and Charles did not believe in miracles.

"Some of them needed a little convincing, but they're all for it now. And I didn't even have to threaten them."

How he would have liked to be a fly on the wall during _that_ conversation. Or perhaps, once again he underestimated his band. He had certainly underestimated Nathan. A small smile permeated his serious features.

"What?" Nathan asked, regarding the change in Charles's expression

"It's just… you never cease to amaze me." Charles felt his frustration start to melt with the hope the younger man had so casually given him. There was no question about the truth of the statement. He knew that if Nathan said he had done it, he had done it.

"You convinced the band to do a whole new album? Do you know what it's like to try and get you guys to even show up for practice? You amaze me, Nathan."

Charles lightly gasped as the singer's fingers started to caress the back of his neck, ever so softly.

"You're not so bad yourself." Nathan replied soothingly. Charles felt Nathan carefully removed his glasses. Then, as he took hold of Charles's hand and gently lifted it until the manager's deft fingers brushed against his smiling face, he whispered, "I want you to_ see_ how you make _me_ feel."

...

Charles flushed as he remembered Nathan's whispered words, the sensitivity behind them, and the kisses that had followed. He rolled onto his side, and propped himself up on an elbow facing his companion. He longed to watch Nathan as he slept, and wondered if he wore an expression denoting the same peace and contentment that Charles now felt. He focused again on the steady sound of Nathan's breathing, and gently moved to caress his slightly stubbled cheek, recalling how he had become well-acquainted with the singer's bold features the evening before.

...

_Out of Darkness_. Nathan had revealed the new album title in between tender exploratory moments. Charles could hear the pride in his voice, and he pulled the singer in for another kiss. This time it was gloriously unrestrained. Charles knew there were a variety of meanings the title could take on, the most true to the band being a reference to all the brutality that darkness could hold, but to him, at this moment, it spoke of the connections he had gained as he dealt with the loss of his vision.

As the two pulled apart he whispered breathlessly into Nathan's ear, "Out of Darkness… Comes Light."

As if he understood exactly what his manager meant, Nathan cradled Charles's head against his shoulder, and the two stood, embracing, for a long moment.

Charles was pulled back to the conference room as he heard the heavy door creak open.

"Good news guys, according to the doctors I'm not dying this time… oh! Well hey there! Uh, sorry to interrupt… We'll , uh, we'll just be goin' now…"

His body still being craddled against a shocked Nathan, Charles heard Pickles loudly whisper, "Right on!", but wasn't sure who he was directing it to.

" Thicsh better be conshcentual…" Murderface added in a mildly threatening tone, obviously resuming his "protective" role.

Sensing that Nathan was at a loss for words Charles cut in. "Ah, I promise not to force myself on him."

Pickles giggled. The boys had no idea that Charles was actually more than capable of overpowering the much larger man if he wanted to.

"Yeah, what he said. So fuck off you two!" Nathan growled, as he drew Charles closer again.

"Done!" he heard Pickles exclaim, as the two intruders shuffled out the door. Just as the door was supposed to close Pickles called out, "Oh, hey, do you want your tie back? It was already red so the blood stains don't show that much."

"What? No!" Charles yelled back, recalling how his tie had been used as a bandage for Pickles's bleeding hand.

"Can I keep it?" Muderface asked, adding, "It's brutal!"

"NO!" Nathan yelled back. And with that the intruders left and the two were alone together again.

"Oh my god, I thought they'd never go away!" Nathan breathed. Chares had to smile at Nathan's impatience, as the interruption had only been a few minute long. But he too was glad to be alone with the singer again.

"How did his hand look?" Charles couldn't help but be drawn back into his manager mind-set by the interruption.

"Bandaged, but clean… I mean no blood. Really? We're going to talk about Pickles hand _now_?"

"No, no, I, ah, just had to know that's all. Speaking of blood though, did he really bleed all over the place, because we might want to, ah, relocate, if that's the case…"

"Well, there's kind of a trail of blood leading here from the door, just drops, and some on the table… It's starting to coagulate…"

"Well then let's take this somewhere else, shall we? I'll have someone come clean up here."

"We could just leave it, it's pretty brutal…"

"What? No! Pickles's blood stains cannot remain in the conference room!" Then, more gently, he added, "Health codes, you know. By the way, why wouldn't you let Murderface keep my tie?"

"Were _you_ gonna let him keep it? He might do voodoo on you one day or something! Besides if anyone gets to keep a piece of your clothing it should be me…"

"Well then I will get you a clean tie one of these days, and you can do whatever you want with it."

There was an unusual pause, but before Charles could ask about it, Nathan continued.

"Do I have the same permission when it comes to the wearer?"

"We'll see…"

Charles smiled back as he swept along the edge of the table with both hands, locating the folded cane but not the glasses.

"They're down here," Nathan started, and Charles could tell he was bending over to pick something up off the ground. "I guess we knocked them off the table."

Charles didn't recall brushing up against the table, but his mind had definitely not been on his surroundings at the time. He felt Nathan place the glasses in his hand. Charles slipped them on and unfolded the black cane as Nathan leaned into him slightly.

"So where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. You'll see."

Charles took hold of Nathan's arm, more to lead him than to be lead, and started towards the door, straying to the side opposite of where Pickles normally sat, in hopes of avoiding stepping on any blood on the floor.

When they reached the door to his office, Charles located and activated the unlocking mechanism.

"So… do you like have a mattress under your desk or something?"

Charles cracked a smile. He had often wondered about the popular perception of his living accommodations.

"Have you ever thought about what's behind that door at the end of the room there," Charles pointed in the direction he was heading.

"You live there? That's crazy! I just figured it was where you kept extra lamps or something."

"Lamps that need a palm-clearance to access?"

"Well, it's not like I lost sleep thinking about it…."

Charles smiled and turned back to Nathan. He reached out and retook Nathan's arm, sliding his hand down until their fingers entwined. It was a gesture meant more to reinitiate physical contact than anything, and Charles pulled forward, leading Nathan the several feet he knew remained between where they were and the door. Reaching out with his free hand, Charles easily found the wall and the palm-clearance panel, and the door clicked open.

Gesturing for Nathan to enter, he followed and closed the door behind them.

Hanging the cane up on a hook by the door, he turned towards the open kitchen in his small suite.

"Uh, did you always live in the Bat Cave or do you just like to deprive your guests of light now?"

"Oh… right!" Charles exclaimed. "Switch is next to the door, on the left. Guess I have gotten out of the habit. Not that I actually _have_ guests. I have to say, besides my housekeeping staff, you're the first person to lay eyes on this place in… well, in a while. I hope it's tidy."

He heard Nathan flick the switch

"So this is where Charles Ofdensen lives."

"Indeed. Have a seat." He gestured to the living room area that was adjoined to the kitchen, separated by a kitchen-island with bar stools on the off-side. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having, as long as it's got alcohol. Wait, do you want me to get it…" Charles could hear him get up off the couch.

"No, sit, I've got it. I do this a lot you know."

But Nathan didn't sit back down, instead he started to look around.

"Is this a record player? That's badass. Billie Holiday? Who's he?"

If he wasn't in the middle of carefully pouring Brandy, Charles would have face-palmed until it left an imprint. His horror must have showed on his face.

"Oh my god, Charles, _relax_, I'm just fucking with you! I know who _she _is. One of the most important Jazz singers of all time. She's a legend.

"I'm impressed, Nathan. Do you want to turn it on?" But Nathan was already focused on other things.

"Oh my god, do you play?" Nathan's voice came excitedly from further across the room.

"Do I play what? Oh, you must be referring to my baby. Yes, yes I do…"

"This is is a '59 Les Paul! What a gorgeous guitar. You have to play me something!"

"Well, take her down, _very carefully_, and we'll see. There should be a step stool… somewhere around there."

The guitar was mounted in a glass display case and seemed to be the show-piece of the classically decorated living room.

As he made his way over to the couch, a glass of brandy in one hand, and the other outstretched to guide him, Charles listened to the sounds of Nathan procuring the treasured guitar. He put the glass down on the coffee table and headed back for the second one.

Upon returning Nathan took the glass from Charles and pressed the guitar into his arms.

It felt so good to hold this instrument again. Since his injury he had avoided taking it down from the wall-case, for fear of somehow dropping or damaging it… _her_.

After tenderly running his fingers over the guitar Charles gingerly plucked a few cords and then launched into a soulful rendition of the solo from "All Along the Watchtower" complete with masterfully executed Hendrix-style slides. When he was done Nathan let out an exclamation, in between carefully small sips of brandy.

"That was awesome, Charles! You didn't miss a note!"

"It's,_ w_ell, it's a hobby. Feels so great to play her again though."

"Her." He could tell Nathan thought this was cute. "So does she have a name?"

"Sweet Lady Sadie".

"After a girlfriend?"

"After a dog, actually".

"Nice. Never saw you as a dog person… or a Blues man!"

"Who do you think hooked you guys up with ol' Mashed Potato Johnson?"

Charles gently handed the guitar back to Nathan and instructed him to find a folding stand that he knew was around somewhere, and stand her up in the corner, where she would be easier to access but hopefully hard to run into. On his way back Nathan handed Charles his brandy glass.

"Ever thought of getting a seeing-eye dog? You could get a bad-ass dog like a Doberman or something."

"It had occurred to me, briefly, but Mordhaus is not place for a dog." And the way things go around here, he added silently, it would probably attack someone out of the blue, or get killed in a random accident. He didn't need that.

Nathan grunted a reply and tapped Charles's glass.

"Drink. You have some catching up to do."

"I'm just glad you didn't spray yours all over my apartment!"

"I _learned _from that experience, thank you very much. You should see me, I'm holding it right and everything."

"Bravo, we'll be going to Brandy-tastings in no time."

"Cool, but Toki and Murderface cannot come, under any circumstances! Remember that wine tasting…"

"The one that got you guys outlawed from France for several months? Yes, I recall something about that. Okay then, no Toki or Murderface. Better yet, why not just the two of us?"

" I like that." Nathan reached in and slid Charles glasses up over his head.

"I miss your amazing eyes."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I miss them too."

"Oh god, I didn't mean it like that… I just, I miss seeing them. They're awesome, you know." Nathan gently traced patterns along Charles's temples, carefully avoiding the sonar devices, all the while presumably looking into Charles's eyes. It made Charles uncomfortable, and he shifted his sightless gaze downward.

"Here, let's do this…Be right back." Charles felt Nathan release him and heard him walk towards the door. He heard a click.

"I just turned the lights out. Now we're both the same. It is really dark in here, wow."

"Blacker than the blackest night times infinity", Charles grinned.

"_Motherfucking cock sucker_!" Charles simultaneously heard a loud crack and Nathan's pained exclamation.

"That was my fucking shin and your fucking coffee table! How do you do this? Are you covered in bruises?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Charles asked playfully. "You just have to be careful… and if you run into something hard enough you tend to be more aware of where it is next time. Pain is a good teacher. But, here…"

Charles reached out to Nathan and guided him around the coffee table and onto the couch, as he sat down himself, right next to Nathan.

"Now, where were we… Oh, I believe we were gazing into each others' eyes…"

...

To Be Continued... :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha are gods.

**Apologies**: Sorry it's a fairly short part. More to follow... sooon... :)

**Gratitude:** Thanks to my lovely Beta (and sis) YvetteDel, as well as everyone who is reading and enjoying this! 3 u!

**Notes:** This story is a direct continuation of another story called "**Out of Darkness**", and part of what hopefully will end up being a trilogy. "**Out of Darkness**" explains a few things such as how Charles went blind and subsequently found himself in a relationship with Nathan.

**Warnings:** Some strong language… but seriously, it's Metalocalypse, what did you expect? ;)  
This story contains a slash pairing (Charles/Nathan) which had just been established at the end of the previous story.

Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! Feedback = Love :)

...

Charles carefully leaned over and gave the sleeping singer a gentle kiss on the neck before sliding out of bed. He proceeded to throw on a pair of work-out pants and commence his pre-shower ritual of 100 pushups on the exercise mat on the corner of his room.

Though lost in thought and pleasant memories he still managed to keep a quiet verbal count, as was part of his routine. As he reached 100, he spun around and sat, catching his breath and feeling for the towel he knew was hanging from a hook nearby.

"Do you do this every day?" a gravelly voice asked from the bed.

"Oh, good morning Nathan… ah, how long have you been awake?"

"Since around 40. I have to say, that's pretty brutal, but you kind of make it look easy. You're really fit!"

Charles lay the towel down. So Nathan had been watching him for a while. Ordinarily it would have bothered him, to be watched while unaware, but he found he liked knowing that Nathan had been quietly observing him for the last 60 pushups. He couldn't help it, however, when a hint of introversion crept into his voice.

"I, ah, I work out."

"No kidding!"

Charles got up and turned towards Nathan, who, judging from his voice, was still sitting on the bed.

"So you survived the night in a normal sized bed!" he teased the singer.

Nathan grunted an inaudible reply.

At some point in the previous evening they had made their way from couch to bed, still in the darkness of the un-lit apartment. Charles realized that Nathan must have switched on a light at some point this morning. He had forgotten that he still kept side lamps by the bed.

"What time is it?" Charles asked Nathan, though he could have just as easily asked his watch.

There was a pause as Nathan consulted his phone, which it took him a moment to find. "It's like 5 am! This is ridiculous! How did we go to sleep so early last night?"

"Well, lack of light will, ah, mess with your perception of time like that. But, honestly, I think it had more to do with the, ah, host of physical activity that preceded our sleep…"

"Is that some kind of fucked up lawyer way of saying we got really tired from making out a lot?"

Charles had to stifle a laugh. "Yes, that's exactly what it is." It was true that they didn't do much more than what would be considered "making out"… the time didn't seem quite right yet for more. But what they did do, they did with an unbridled enthusiasm that certainly had lead to exhaustion! And it had been beautiful.

Charles heard Nathan get up and presumably switched on the main light.

"Oh my god, Charles, you _are_ covered in bruises! What did you do?"

It took Charles a moment to realize what Nathan was talking about. His fingers pressed lightly over his torso. The dull ache had almost gone away, but apparently the color had not.

"I… ah… it's… ah, it's no big deal." He started, awkwardly. He had hoped to forget about his stupid attempt at fighting the punching bag in his gym recently. It had been a test, one that, for some unknown reason, he thought he had a chance of succeeding at. It had not turned out how he'd hoped.

"Wait, did someone do that to you?" Charles could hear Nathan start to get worked up.

"No, not someone. Some_thing_, okay. Heavy punching bag. Thought I could still do it, turns out I can't. Can we please drop it?" Feeling tension in his chest, he carefully but quickly made his way over to the walk-in closet across the room, and felt for a tee-shirt where he knew they should be and slipped it on. He wondered if he had any other lingering bruises that he wasn't aware of, recalling that they seemed to peak in color when they no longer hurt.

"Damn. Do you want me to kick that punching bag's ass?" Nathan asked.

" No, _I_ will do that, one of these days. Just took things too fast. Abigail warned me about that."

He neglected to mention that after taking a bad hit from the body-sized bag, which was something he was very unaccustomed to doing, he had torn the bag down, slammed it on the ground and wailed on it until his anger and frustration dissipated to a numb lack of caring.

"What's your deal with Abigail, really?"

"Oh god Nathan, she has become a friend, nothing more. Besides, did she just wake up in my bed? I don't think so."

"Hmm, good point…" Nathan mused.

"Her brother went blind some time ago, so she kind of gets this…"

"Oh. I didn't know that. That sucks. I mean, that's good that… I mean… whatever, you know what I mean. Fuck."

Charles appreciated Nathan's assumption. It was true… after all this time, most often no explanation was necessary. The frustration he expressed by the added curse didn't go unnoticed either. Nathan just needed a patient listener when he communicated and Charles was happy to be that for him.

"I guess… Well, that's kind of cool of her to show up then, actually." Nathan seemed to contemplate this for a moment then, reverting to the previous subject, he added, "Hey, when you get good with the sonar you'll be able to take out that asshole punching bag."

"That's the goal. Well, the first step towards the goal anyway."

"You'll do it. Today. Now. I'll help." Nathan said. It was more of a statement than an offer. Charles cocked his head slightly.

"I'd, ah, okay." He had yet to get back to learning to use his sonar devices, after the previous time left him in the hospital. While he knew his physical therapist would frown on the thought of him pursuing this without her guidance, he also knew that Nathan had a unique insight into how sonar worked because of his intimate experiences communicating with the whales. But Nathan was very private about his dealings with the whales, to the point of deep self-consciousness, and Charles would never betray that trust by discussing it with anyone. Besides, he was the manager of Dethklok and head of the entire staff of Mordhaus. He knew his actions and decisions would never be questioned, or, likely, even doubted.

"Where is the bastard?"

"Who? Oh, the punching bag?" Get dressed and I'll show you to my gym." Charles was excited for Nathan to see his private work-out room.

"Maybe I am dressed. Maybe I changed into one of your suits while you were busy working out." Nathan toyed with Charles.

"Oh how I wish I could see that!" The manager sighed, as he turned towards Nathan and imagined the sight of the larger man's strong body busting out of one of his custom-made London suits. He couldn't suppress a small laugh. "I'm hoping, for the suit's sake, that that isn't the case, though it is an intriguing image."

Then, remembering that Nathan had recently been concerned and ashamed about recent weight gain he quickly added… "Just because, different sizes, you know…" he trailed off lamely, feeling bad, even though Nathan had initiated the conversation.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Charles wasn't sure if there was an air of defensiveness in Nathan's voice, or if the question was actually meant in jest. Oh to be able to read his facial expression!

"No, no. Stop. Nathan, you are perfect! Perfect! Hey, I have something for you that we talked about earlier…" He quickly turned back towards his closet and grabbed something from its hook, then headed towards where Nathan had stood. Finding the singer, he reached up and slowly placed the red tie over Nathan's head, allowing his hands and the tie to caress the back of his head and neck on the way down.

"Brutal!" Nathan exclaimed quietly. "Does this mean I get an office too?" Charles could hear his grin.

"You'll have to share mine," the CFO quipped back.

Then as Charles tightened the tie on the otherwise unclothed man he was surprised as Nathan interrupted and actually reached up to stop him.

"I … uh… need to tell you something. I actually… I already have one of your ties. When you… when you died before… We stayed with you until it was all over. I don't know if you knew that. You were still alive for a bit, I think. But when the Medical Gears came, and took your pulse, and…." He paused for a moment, and Charles let go of the tie and gripped his hand. "I just needed something… some part of you, to keep… so I took off your tie, and I still have it. I thought you should know. So you, uh, don't have to give me another one…"

Charles felt a tightness in his own throat to match that he heard in the singer's. Squeezing Nathan's hand, he rested his head against his warm, broad chest, and they just stood there in silence for a moment. Charles was captivated by sound of Nathan's rapidly beating heart. Finally he said quietly,

"Thank you Nathan. I didn't know that. I'm glad for you to have it, that tie. But you don't need it. I won't leave you again."

They both knew it was not a promise he could truly make, and Nathan called him out.

"You can't say that for sure," he said quietly.

"I know." Charles replied, in an equal tone. "But I can try." Then there was no more to say.

After another moment of silence and togetherness, they pulled apart. Charles gave Nathan's hand one more quick squeeze and said "Well I see you're not actually wearing my suit. You shouldn't lie to a blind man like that, you know." He smiled up at Nathan to indicate the comment was in jest. "Let's go see if we can teach that punching bag a lesson, shall we. Clothing is optional. But feel free to keep this on." He reached for the tie, and quickly finished tightening it, weaving some of the singer's long black hair around it. "That's an image I don't ever want to get out of my head!"

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha are gods.

**Gratitude:** Thanks to my lovely Beta (and sis) YvetteDel, as well as everyone who is reading and enjoying this! 3 u!

**Notes:** This story is a direct continuation of another story called "**Out of Darkness**", and part of what hopefully will end up being a trilogy. "**Out of Darkness**" explains a few things such as how Charles went blind and subsequently found himself in a relationship with Nathan.

**Warnings:** Some strong language… but seriously, it's Metalocalypse, what did you expect?  
This story contains a slash pairing (Charles/Nathan) which had just been established at the end of the previous story.

...

Charles lead Nathan, by the tie, out of his bedroom and down a short adjoining hall, at the end of which he opened an unlocked door and stepped into his gym. He left the door open for Nathan who had stopped to grab his pants which had been unceremoniously tossed aside in the living room the evening before. Once in the room, Charles felt along the right side of the door frame for a version of the original white cane that he kept in here, which hung on the wall, unfolded. (The black one that the band had had made for him was kept available for his everyday use, but he liked to have one set aside for this large private room). He unconsciously pressed his thumb into the grip on top of the cane. Next to him he heard the singer approach and whistle through his teeth.

"Oh my god, Charles! You weren't kidding about working out! My god, this is…. _Who are you_?"

"Well, it's a hobby. Actually, it's more than a hobby. Or it was. Anyway, here's the culprit." His cane came into contact with what he suspected was the first of a row of hanging punching bags. As he was making his way to the heavy bag, Nathan stopped him, with a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa. If you trip over it, it wins again."

Just as Nathan said this, the end of the cane tapped the large object, wich was still on the floor.

"Oh. I thought I had asked for someone to come set this up again. I, ah… Well, lets just do this."

If Nathan was wondering what the body-shaped bag was doing on the floor, he had the decency not to inquire.

Charles took a step back as he felt Nathan bend down and swoop up the 100 lbs bag like it was nothing. He was secretly glad that the front-man stepped in to do the heavy lifting, though he could have done it himself. He wanted to save his energy, though, for what the sonar had in store for him.

"Is that a faint outline of Dr. Rockzo's face painted on the bag?" Nathan asked.

"Oh, ah, maybe. That's, ah, old."

"I approve." Nathan said matter-of-factly, as he lifted the bag and hooked it back up to its stand. Then, turning back to Charles he added, protectively, "Don't turn it on yet. Remember, you have a limited time before…"

"Before I feel a bolt of lightning shoot through my head and then gloriously pass out? Yes, I remember."

Charles felt small table next to the heavy bag stand and located wraps. He deftly folded the cane, placed it on the table and began wrapping his hands and wrists, as he recalled his first sonar lesson with Nathan. He had not activated the devices again since the previous use had landed him back in the Mordhaus hospital wing. The implants, which were meant to eventually enable him to interpret sonar waves in a somewhat visual fashion, were both a source of hope and frustration to him, and at this point frustration was winning out. But with Nathan's unique guidance, Charles was feeling a little more positive about attempting this again; he just had to be aware of how his body was reacting.

Once he had wrapped both hands, he slipped on a pair of light gloves. He admitted to himself, that while he always considered himself careful before, he, was in truth, extremely confident in his own abilities and perhaps slightly reckless in his lack of personal protection from time to time. But now that he relied on his hands for navigation, he needed to focus a little more on safety precautions. At least for now.

Nathan piped up. "Maybe we should start with a smaller bag… Like that speed bag over there?"

"The one that would likely bounce back and hit me in the face? It's much easier to hide a bruised torso than a broken nose. I've thought this through, you know."

"Oh. Okay, good point. Now, take a step back." Without waiting for Charles to initiate this, Nathan took him by the shoulders and gently pushed him back about a foot, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

"It's right in front of you."

"Yes."

"Are you ready?

Charles took a breath, and vocally directed his watch to commence an alarm sequence that would warn him after 14 minutes. He gathered, from his previous experience, that he would have a few minutes after the alarm went off to register his body's warning signs and turn the devices off before they rendered him unconscious.

"Yes," he stated, determinedly, subconsciously adapting a fighting stance.

"Ah, will you…" He indicated the dial with his gloved hand.

"Oh yeah, here!" Nathan came over and gently turned the miniscule safety dial to the off position.

"Here goes," he said as he turned the switch to activate the small metal implants embedded in Charles's temples. Both devices were activated by the same switch.

"Now don't rush this, okay?" Nathan continued, putting a steadying hand on Charles's shoulder. "And don't try to see it. Just feel it. Reach forward and know when you're going to touch it. Don't hit it though, not yet."

Charles did as Nathan instructed as the singer repositioned himself. Charles felt like he knew how close the bag was even without the sonar, based on where he thought he was standing, but as he reached out to touch the bag, he hesitated, and allowed himself to slow down earlier than he would have expected, and tap the bag in front of him.

"You pushed me back in closer, and I didn't even realize it." Charles stated.

"You thought you knew where it was. But you didn't need to _know _where it was, because you could _sense_ where it was… Right?"

"Right," Charles felt the corners of his mouth rise, but repressed the desire to express too much emotion. He had work to do.

"Now hit it, and then try to hit it again... I won't let it get you."

"Okay…" Allowing himself to believe he could feel where the target was, Charles took a strong jab at it, and connected powerfully. Then, without thinking about it he hit it again as it came back towards him. Feeling good, he went in for one more hit, but slowed as something felt different. His third punch connected with something unexpected.

"OW! That's my fucking arm! I said I was going to stop it. Man, you have a hell of a punch! Remind me never to piss you off."

"Ah, noted! Sorry by the way! I just, ah, really, got into it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live. Hey, do it again. I'll grab it after three times this time. Don't hit me again!"

"Okay." Charles sunk back into his stance, took another deep breath and proceeded to jab at the bag, three consecutive times before stepping back, trusting that Nathan would stop it.

"Brutal! How are you feeling?"

Just as the question was asked, the watch alarm sounded, indicated that however he was feeling now was about to change.

"Okay, stop!" Nathan said commandingly.

"There's time for one more round!"

"If I have to drag your passed out body to the hospital again…"

"You dragged me?"

"Well no, but I will this time! Just move around a bit and focus on what you feel might be in front of you. And how your body is feeling… lightning bolts and all that…"

"Fine." Charles complied, not wanting to wake up in the "recovery suite" _again_.

Soon Charles started to feel the expected wave of nausea start to quickly build.

"It's time," he said hurriedly and Nathan rushed up and cupped Charles's jaw while he quickly turned the switch located on the other side of his head. He also turned the safety back on.

Charles stood motionless, head still in Nathan's hands, and breathed deeply for a moment allowing the nausea to quietly pass.

"Hey," Nathan said, sliding his hands down to Charles's shoulders. "Great job, seriously. That kicked ass."

"Well that may be a bit generous of a description, but it felt good anyway. Thanks again."

"Anytime. Or how ever often you can handle it… the devices… you know… But, like yeah, we got keep practicing."

Charles repressed a grin at Nathan's use of "we".

"I'm sure _we_ can come up with many different creative ways to hone these skills…" Charles added, as he removed the gloves and wraps, and stepped forward, feeling the table with his leg. He replaced them on the table, next to the folded cane.

"How's your arm?"

"Purple. How am I gonna explain this to the guys?"

"Just tell them that you got beat up by a blind guy."

"Ha. That's a bit of a stretch."

"I supposed it is. But I bet that I could take you down, right now… Just saying." He was feeling confident and playful.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? I think the sonar has messed with your head." Charles could hear Nathan's grin.

"Are you game? Cause I think this could be fun. But you can't just let me get you…"

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it! But seriously, how are you gonna find me?" Charles could hear that Nathan was backing away. The game was on, and he could tell they were both enjoying it. He followed the singer's voice, bending his knees and injecting a bounce into his step, aided by the padded floor of the gym.

"Just keep talking…"

"Do you always try to beat people up on the second date?"

"Is this our second date? I guess maybe it is. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't want to consider any of it dating actually cause dating sucks so hard and…"

Charles knew that the question would provoke a drawn out answer, and he took the opportunity to quickly close in on Nathan. When he judged the proximity to be accurate, he flung his leg up in a well-styled roundhouse kick. As he had anticipated, Nathan's reaction was quick and the singer grabbed Charles's outstretched leg as it approached his shoulder. While the kick, which never intended to connect, was interrupted, Charles's momentum was not, and he allowed his body to follow through, connecting with the thighs of his larger companion, and driving Nathan's feet out from under him. The larger man went crashing down on the padded floor, with Charles twisted on top of him, so that his leg, which was still in Nathan's grasp, wasn't tweaked.

"Oh my fucking god!" exclaimed Nathan, from the ground as he released Charles's leg. Charles could hear the amazement in his heavily breathing voice. Then he added, in a playful growl, "You came _dangerously _close to hitting below the belt!"

Charles was catching his breath and recovering from the fall. Even though he had been padded by Nathan's body, he still couldn't anticipate when they were going to hit the ground, and it was a jarring experience…. But thrilling nonetheless!

"I'm going to start calling you Chuck Norris! A roundhouse kick to the head? I did not see that coming!"

"You did, actually, and it was to the shoulder, not the head… I think," Charles replied breathlessly. "I never intended to actually kick you! I guess I took a chance on your reflexes there. And you didn't let me down." He grinned and rolled off of the singer, till he was on his back, next to him with their arms pressed against each other's. He continued to breathe heavily as he stared blankly at the climbing-wall covered ceiling.

"You're not very hurt are you?" Charles leaned his head against Nathan's shoulder that was still heaving.

"After you took me out and then landed on me? Maybe a few bruises, but mostly just my fucking pride!" After a pause he added, "I am so impressed right now. You are so much more badass that I ever realized."

"Well, I tend to keep most of this stuff," he indicated the gym in general, "ah… to myself. But it's nice to share it with someone. I, ah, I really appreciate letting me do that."

"It's all so fucking Metal." Nathan continued, awe having crept into his voice. Then he added, as if to himself, "Track one…_Roundhouse Kick to the Psyche"_

Charles beamed.

...

Eventually, Charles and Nathan both rose and brushed themselves off. Charles checked with his watch and was informed that it was around 6 am.

"I should be asleep for like 6 more hours!" Nathan exclaimed. "The meeting isn't til way later today."

The band meeting that Charles had scheduled for today was to do with the rapidly approaching Press-Conference formerly known as a concert. As were all meetings where the band's attendance was desired, it was scheduled no earlier than mid-afternoon. Multi-Platinum gazillionaire rockstars did not generally make good morning people, Charles mused, thought Nathan seemed to be hanging in there so far.

Realizing he had lost any reference point by which to orient himself to the room, Charles strode forward, hand outstretched, until he came into contact with something. Further investigation revealed that it was one of the punching-bag structures, which gave him an idea of where he was in relation to the door and the rest of the room. He felt his way to the small side table and picked up the cane, not bothering to unfold it, before heading towards the door, still guided by a hand.

"You coming?" Charles shifted his sightless gaze back to where the other man still stood.

"Yeah," Nathan replied, and Charles wondered if the other man had been watching him.

...


End file.
